Avius
by Bootes-'D'-Huntsman
Summary: After losing his family at the age of five, Dipper Pines thought it would be like any other uneventful summer when he moved under his Great-Uncle Stanford Filbrick Pines' roof in a sleepy town called Gravity Falls Oregon. That is, until one day, he uncovers a hidden secret in the 'spooky' part of the forest... and then it all went down to heck.


**WARNING: ITS RATED T, NUFF SAID.**

 **GRAVITY FALLS BELONGS TO ALEX HIRSCH, THE FLANNEL GENIUS**

* * *

The Mystery Shack, inarguably one of the most sought out places in eastern Oregon, a tourist trap known for its wide foray of outlandish nearly mythical attractions, and its $50 entrance fee. Ask any people in Gravity Falls about their honest to god opinion of the place, it often associated with words such as 'inane' or 'asinine', though the Shack's impact upon the town's tourism as its infamy rose was something to be commended, even to them.

And the man behind it all-

"Welcome to the Mystery Shack! Your one stop shop for anything beyond natural, things so bizarre, that it defies the very laws of nature! So get those cameras ready and wallets open, your pocket's in for a trip, people!"

Stanford Filbrick Pines, also known as Mr. Mystery by many, was the man running the show. A tall grizzled man in his sixties, he appeared to be somewhat robust despite his age, wearing a dark business suit and pants, with glasses over his brown eyes, and an orange fez.

The crowd of tourists cheered in enthusiasm as Stan led the excited group inside the building.

"As you can see, we have here the finest collection of things beyond your wildest imaginations, wonders that can only be seen here, not in some cheap looking tent down the lot."

The group entered in what appeared to be a hallway, rows of taxidermied cryptids adorning the walls. The tourists gasped in awe at creatures never before seen, snapping pictures here and there.

"Oh if you think that's amazing, behold! The Schnuffel!" Stan proclaimed, pointing to an overstuffed cartoonish looking bunny with enormous eyes encased in an airtight glass wall. For the second time people were amazed, instantly flashing their cameras for a shot at this inexplicably adorable rabbit.

"Don't be fooled by its cuteness: given the chance, its singing would haunt your very ears."

"Step one, present a somewhat barely legit product to offer, step two, coax as many adulation to prevent any further doubts, step three, get paid. Rinse and repeat." A boy muttered to himself in a corner, lazily mopping the floor. He rolled his eyes as his great-uncle discreetly ripped-off another poor batch of gullible customers into another one of his cheap make do attractions.

He looked rather strange, to say at least. His scruffy hair was a healthy shade of brown, though unkempt, dark brown eyes with eye bags underneath his black thick rimmed glasses, evidencing his horrible sleeping habits. He wore a tan coat over a red turtleneck with a belt across it, dark pants and bulky brown boots.

Dipper Pines, 12 years old, the youngest Pines under Stan's roof.

"Hey Pointdexter! Come in here for a sec!" Stan called out.

Dipper frowned - and here he thought he was over with the stupid nicknames the moment he left the orphanage. Sighing, he placed the mop back in the bucket before grumpily making his way to his Great-Uncle, who was busy scribbling down his notepad.

"Ah, there you are you are," Placing the note back in his suit, Stan picked up a bunch of signs lying idly in the corner: Dipper yelped when the old man practically shoved them into his arms. "Here, make yourself useful and hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Aww, what?" The boy whined. "Seriously Great-Uncle Stan, I don't think the forest is a good idea."

"Pfft, how would you know? Plus Soos is out fixin' the toilets, and that bimbo is off playin' hooky."

"But—"

"No buts, except yours out of that door," Stan cut the boy off. Dipper sighed. No point arguing with him; might as get on with it. As the young Pines exited, Soos entered the room carrying a toolbox.

A tall plump man of Mexican descent, wearing gray shorts, a shirt with a black question mark motif, black shoes, and a gray baseball cap. He was the Shack's typical textbook handyman, except for the fact that he worked for free. One of the Shack's few, perfectly legit mysteries.

"Hey Stan, finally fixed the microwave you've been telling me about."

The conman nodded. "Good work Soos."

"Soooo, can I go back popping hot dogs?"

"No Soos, that is exactly what messed it up in the first place."

* * *

 **_GRAVITY_FALLS_FOREST_**

* * *

Dipper never liked forests, with its serene nature and carefree air, there's too many memories he wished to forget. Memories he spent with his family on their picnics, before an arson took them all away on a cold Sunday evening.

He wasn't exactly placed under Stan's custody till the start of this summer, when his therapist, Dr. Oaks finally deemed him stable, something where Dipper is deeply offended and resents the woman for it.

Stan Pines was his family. Yet all she saw was a gruff, kooky conman incapable of handling a traumatized orphan - until now.

Life at the orphanage was hard, especially for someone like him. If there's one word he would use to describe it, that would be, dull. For the seven years he spent there, while the nuns were really saints, the kids on the other hand, Dipper would rather spend most of his day reading books in the library, least he could stay away from all the immature teasing those ingnorant shmucks would throw at him.

"Stan, honestly, that old man never ceases to appall." Dipper muttered dryly, lazily hammering a nail on a tree before hanging a sign, he continues his walk in the woods. Any other guardian would be filed for charges of neglect, but Stan was Stan, not your average run of the mill eccentric uncle, probably worse.

It was quiet - maybe too quiet. With the only noise from the howling wind and the twigs crushing beneath his every footstep, punctuated with the heavy fog, it created a foreboding serenade that Dipper found rather unsettling.

The occasional tingling he felt didn't help his growing apprehension either; he could never shake off the faint feeling of being followed.

He heard a faint noise behind, he instantly turned around, hammer raised in defense. Only to be greeted with nothing in particular, for the seventh time. Pursing his lips, he shook his head. He was already down to one last sign to hammer, might as well get it over with. The sooner he got it done the better. Dipper resumed his uneventful walking.

But then again, despite all this, the peaceful atmosphere of the forest was something he'd come to appreciate; it sure beat spending time around the basement with nothing but books to read, almost.

The brown haired boy checked his watch and sighed. It was already three in the afternoon.

In a matter of minutes, he later stumbled upon a clearing with a strange looking tree right in the middle.

"Strange, the bark patterns appear to be very similar." Dipper examined, rubbing his chin. He gave the side a careful tap of his hammer, eliciting a metallic clang, much to the boy's surprise.

"Interesting."

Taking a few steps back, he took a moment to analyze the tree head to toe. The extent of its unusualness didn't merely stop from the bark itself; the leaves appeared to be two seasons late, the height and build appeared to be too linear, and everything about it felt off. And then there's that branch.

Narrowing his eyes, despite his condition, he could see some faint indention around the branch, narrowing his eyes even more, he could see a couple of hex screws on its sides.

And the way this branch was bent vaguely resembled some sort of a lever.

Dipper glanced around, finding something he could use. His eyes landed on a rock lying on the ground; he picked it up and readily aimed, cocking his right arm.

The distance wasn't feasible, so he took a few steps back for a more suitable angle; he licked his thumb and held it up for additional sense of the wind direction. Still not good enough, he took an additional few steps back.

Then, he threw the rock as hard as his pubescent strength could muster, the rock collided with the branch as he expected. As he thought so, the branch bent back at the sudden force, he could hear the rusty creak of metal, unused in so many years.

"Nailed it." He grinned.

What he didn't expect however, was the ground to shake, and tree to suddenly submerge under a circular hole beneath. Dipper yelped in surprise, falling flat on his rear. It took seven seconds for the tree to finally stop halfway through, followed by the sound of ancient machinery operating. The boy let out a satisfied whistle.

Gathering his bearings, he slowly stood up; dusting off his coat, he carefully approached the newfound opening.

Looking down, he could see a wide circular cavity, with rows of staircase leading all the way down to the deep dark below.

Dipper had never been more intrigued, curiosity filling him as he gazed upon the deep darkness, wondering what, or who he might find. He knew this forest had something to hide, but he didn't even expect to discover a hidden passage right in the very heart, let alone open it, yet here he is.

He carefully weighed his options; he could just carry on with the task at hand and return to the Shack before nightfall, or he could sate his inner inquisitiveness and dare himself to confront whatever he might encounter down in this hidden staircase.

 _It's not like the old man cares if I'm half past curfew anyway._ He thought bitterly. Granted, Stan did tend to show the barest hint of concern towards his little nephew at times, like occasionally giving him a dollar or anything like that, but the conman could care less about Dipper's timetable.

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a pocket-sized flashlight.

"Here we go."

He cautiously made his way down the staircase. He couldn't risk triggering any possible traps. This place was hidden for a reason he was probably about to find out. Darkness slowly enveloped him as he slowly descended, leaving the flashlight as his only source of light. A deafening silence surrounded him: the metallic clang echoed by his footsteps was all he could hear.

Dipper could feel his inner geekness squealing. Entering a hidden staircase somehow reminded him of Dungeons, Dungeons, And More Dungeons. He's off 'Dungeon Hunting', as he'd like to put it.

A small part of him told him to stop, to turn back. Something told him this bunker was not everything as it seemed, that he'd come to regret it later. He shook his head, pushing any skeptic thoughts aside. His curiosity was far too big to hold.

He finally reached downstairs, and what appeared to be a small room with a single linen bed and rows and rows of shelves.

"Interesting, it looks like someone's preparing for an upcoming Armageddon or something." Dipper mused, the food and supplies found in these shelves is enough to sustain a single person for sixty years. But why would anyone, or someone, go through all the trouble preparing this? He felt something in his foot; looking down, he saw an opened can of beans. Kneeling down, he picked it up.

"Wait a minute, this one looks pretty recent." The lid felt pretty warm, and judging by the moisture around the tip, he could tell it was only opened mere seconds ago. "Someone's still alive... or something."

A weapons cabinet could be seen in the corner, he curiously opened it, a wide array of arms ranging from knives and maces, to revolvers and hunting rifles stacked neatly, albeit dusty from years of being unused. He saw a particular colored treat in the corner: he let out a whistle as he picked it up.

"Smez Dispensers? Haven seen one since 2006."

Dipper felt a small pang in his chest watching this colorful candy canister. This was Mabel's favorite treat, his dear sweet Sister. Back when they were five, before all of this, she would often times bring a pack when the two would watch Saturday morning cartoons together, even when he's not much of a fan of its overuse of magic sugar.

He shrugged. For old times sake, he popped a red candy bar into his hands, put it in his mouth, only to spit it out quickly.

"Pwe, dusty." Then again, Mabel would add some glitter in it, the difference is nay. He couldn't explain it, but he couldn't stop himself from popping another one into his mouth.

 _You have some major issues, Dipper._ He thought dryly, somehow finding the strange mixture of dust and aged sugar oddly pleasant.

Then something caught the corner of his eye - a pair of blue gloves lying idly in the corner.

Placing the canister in his coat, he picked it up and blew the dust off. Much to his utter delight, for some strange albeit rare luck, it appeared to be designed for six fingers. He didn't waste a moment and quickly put them on.

Dipper grinned, admiring his new pair of gloves. Each appeared to have a single blue button in the middle of its dorso, and strange small bulbs in each knuckle. Unable to contain his curiosity, he pressed one of the buttons. Suddenly, electricity started coursing through his hands. Dipper shrieked and tried to pry the gloves off in panic, only pausing momentarily when he realized his hands appeared to be perfectly fine.

"Static Discharge Gloves." He stared at the electric gloves in awe, then he grinned. "Neat, I'm keeping this one."

It didn't exactly count as stealing if the owner was probably dead anyway... He was seriously hanging around Stan too much.

The youngest Pines resumed surveying the room, eager to discover more of what it had in store; he had this faint feeling he might find something far more interesting if the shock gloves were anything to go by. He approached a wall, with a very outdated calendar hanging on it. He took it off, revealing a small horizontal narrow tunnel.

It went deeper than he thought. Dipper wasn't sure if he could get any more curious, and he was sure as heck not leaving any stones unturned. He checked his watch and nodded, there was still ample time for more exploraton.

Barely hesitating, he quickly crawled his way through. He let out an involuntary shiver with the sudden blast of cold air.

He made it to the other side, and entered a rather strange looking room. A perfect cubicle, with strange eldritch symbols adorning the walls and the floors; they appear to be eerily familiar, Dipper recalled reading something in regards to ancient symbology, the notable circles and zig-zags suggests North-American background, something the boy found unsurprising.

"It seems to be sealed off, must be some kind of a security room or something."

Lost with his musings, he accidentally stepped on one of the symbols. Big mistake. A blaring sound of alarm echoed throughout the room. Dipper silently cursed himself for his recklessness.

The room's cubic outlines started to slowly encase, pillars gradually filled the room leaving no space, crushing anything inside.

Dipper's eyes widened in panic. Pulse racing, he desperately looked around for any possible loopholes, but alas, he led himself right to an intricate trap.

Is this it? Is this how its gonna end for him?

Just as he thought it's the end of the line, the wall on the other side of the room opened, revealing an old man.

"Get in here!"

Dipper had never been more grateful to see a doorway. The 12 yr. old made a mad dash through tight neck spaces, barely missing any pillars attempting to crush him.

The opening was slowly closing. Dipper didn't have a choice: he lunged forward as hard as he could. As luck would have it, he made it to the other side.

Dipper landed face first with an audible thud. He took a deep breathe to even his ragged breathing.

"My, what do we have here?" He heard a voice. Looking up, he saw an old man looking at him with a smirk.

The old man offered a gloved hand, which Dipper took and hoisted him up on his feet. Standing up, the young Pines adjusted the rim of his glasses for a better view at him. He looked strange, in an absurdly eccentric way, that is. He appeared to be around his late sixties, or early seventies if his scruffy chin and wrinkly skin were anything to go by. He wore a long dark brown coat over his red turtleneck and a belt across it, brown gloves, black pants and bulky brown boots, and a pair of goggles in his eyes. He looked like something out of a Steam punk science fair.

"Salutations." Dipper greeted, feeling strangely polite after being almost ground to Mabel Juice mere seconds ago.

"What's your name boy?" The old man offered a hand.

Dipper narrowed his eyes. "Tyrone." The boy lied, not bothering to shake. He couldn't bring himself to trust this man just yet.

"And you would be?"

The old man was visibly taken back. "Wait, I have one of those? Well lets see..." Pursing his lips, he rubs his chin before shaking his head."Nope, can't recall alphabet. You can call me... Hank." He chuckled. "I've been down here for a very long time, years, weeks maybe."

"30 years, to be precise." Dipper corrected. Since July 1982, or as what the calendar he'd seen earlier told him.

"30 years? Well, what do you know?" Hank sighed wistfully, Dipper nodded. "Sure feels just like yesterday when I've got a sip of Susan's Orange Juice, or was it Pineapple? Its been nothing but beans and crackers for this old man since then. But enough about me, I see you've found my hidden bunker."

The third and hopefully 'not' the last room, was nothing Dipper would expect; it was huge, it had to be, to fit all these massive hardware. It appeared to be a narrow surveillance room, with rows and rows of monitors showing video feeds of what appeared to be underground complex. Dipper had to give it to him, these tech showed sophistication beyond topnotch, even surpassing conventional computers back in the 80s.

The boy gave a sheepish laugh and rubbed his head."Um, yeah, pardon me for if I offend your property in trespassing." The mysterious man shook his head.

"Nonsense. Truth be told, I wan't expecting guests. I sure hope you understand my stance in setting up a trap like that."

Dipper shrugged. "Nah, it's cool. Totally had that one coming for nosy people like me." He could see both angles in same ways; he would have done the same if he were in the geezer's place anyway. "I get the whole trap thing, but why?"

Hank arched a brow.

"The whole bunker thing you know, with all these hardware around." Dipper gestures his arms around the room. "What exactly are all these for?"

One of the sensors made an audible bleep. "What the devil?" The old man cursed, hastily taking a seat in front of his desk, fingers racing through the keyboards. "Sensors are going crazy." He muttered to himself.

"Um, what's going on sir?" A very confused Dipper asked.

The aged man sighed. "As much as I'd like to chat, there are much more grave matters to attend."

Dipper approached one of the monitors, showing a live video feed of a cage - or what's left of it. The bars appear to be either ripped, or chewed off. Probably the latter, as he could see the faint traces of teeth marks along the edges. If a thing like that could bite off steel bars meant to contain even the likes of elephants, chances are any possible encounters would equate to a death sentence.

"You mean this?" Dipper looked at him, gesturing his head towards the monitor.

Hank nodded. "Yes, it concerns one of my experiments."

"Experiments?"

"A Shapeshifter, an entity with the ability to morph into just about anything it comes across, even the most, horrifying, bizarre creatures ever conceived."

An image of Stan's horrible elderly face flashed across Dipper's mind, he couldn't help but shiver.

"It broke free from one of my cages of solid steel, too mere to hold such a thing." The old man gritted his teeth. Dipper flinched when he banged his fist on the desktop out of frustration.

"I tried everything under my arsenal to put this thing down for good, but it proved to be way smarter than anything I'd ever expect." Hank released a tired sigh, tapping his knees. "And this blasted body of mine isn't as hefty as it used to be."

It was way far off. It isn't something Dipper would expect, not even in an otherwise outré bunker.

"The only viable option I have is sealing this bunker from the rest of the world, along with me in it. Unless of course there's a weakness we can exploit, or some foresight we haven't yet anticipated."

Dipper bit his lip. This was bad. Whatever pure sense of adventure he had minutes ago was gone. As if the situation wasn't already bad enough as it is, this guy's old, really, really old. Even if he were to leave, there's no guarantee this thing would stay down here in a matter of a few more years, seeing as that's all this guy had left.

And then there's this, that small stupid bottled up part inside him, telling him to do something. He thought his generous days were over, thanks to some brief skirmish he got himself into years ago, but some things never seem to change.

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Yup, there it is, regret. There was one thing he had in mind, and a couple of things he needed.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have some explosives, would you?"

The sudden question made the old man pause. "Yes, but for what?"

"I have a plan."

* * *

 **_MYSTERY_SHACK_**

* * *

It was already 4:32. An impatient Stan leaned against the counter checking his watch.

It was so simple: go hammer a bunch of signs on some trees back in the forest and go home. Not only would it attract lost hitchhikers -and god forbid hipsters- the kid could also use some fresh air, double kill in a single streak. It was brilliant! He could have given himself a medal for practicality right here right now. It was a good idea three hours ago. Was.

Was he worried? Heck no! He was just... Simply sitting on the counter, restlessly tapping his fingers on the table, trying his best not to rip out the cash register and throw it out of the window out of frustration just because his oh so beloved great nephew still hadn't made it back. Reminding him that, yeah, Stan Pines actually had a heart, and yeah, it's fully functional.

That dork was really gonna get it when he got home.

He looked through the window, expecting to see a certain six-fingered nerd, only to find nothing. Just the looming Pine trees bathing in golden afternoon light.

"Where is that little shrimp?"

* * *

 **_24_FT_BELOW_**

* * *

-Tyrone my boy, can you hear me- Hanks voice came from the other line.

"I hear you Hank, loud and clear." Dipper replied through his Walkie Talkie.

-Good, I'll keep you an update of the Shapeshifter's whereabouts through the sensors, remember, we only have a single shot at this-

"And a single mistake to lose it all."

Dipper laid it out plain and simple, with the fortunate amount of supplies they needed they might just be able to pull this off. Throughout its whole time out of captivity, the Shapeshifter somehow managed to dig a vast undergound complex in a vain attempt to reach the surface, only to be greeted with bedrock. There was a single major tunnel, with smaller ones interconnecting it. But there was a spot, around north of the Creature's Den, that if detonated with enough charges would bring the whole tunnel down, effectively trapping the monster for good, if somehow caught by surprise.

Another thing to consider was temporarily immobilizing it, though temporary for its regenerative abilities, should be put out of comission providing enough time for Dipper to set the charges. That's where the crossbow he'd been carrying came into play. That is, if he so happens to encounter it, chances are slim to nothing.

He rechecked his stock: 3 C3s, a dozen arrows, a two-way walkie-talkie, and a 30 yr. old Smez Dispenser. With all his equipment present, he proceeded.

"Alright, I'm heading in."

-Godspeed, young lad-

Now, how the heck did I get myself into this? Dipper mentally asked himself. 2 hours ago, his beloved not so great uncle made him hammer those stupid signs in the woods, somehow with a certain chain of events leading him on a one man demolition job on these tunnels infested with a creature capable of ripping off solid steel like cotton candy.

He cautiously walked, occasionally glancing around, eyes on full alert. The tunnel appeared to be completely narrow, with a few openings along the sides, and water around a foot deep. The next few minutes were an eerie silence, with the wet sopping of Dipper's boot in every step, and every drip from the wastepipes.

Then he heard it, a loud roar echoed throughout the tunnel, and the ground beneath him started to shake.

-Oh dear, It's him-

"Wait, seriously!? Now!?"

-No, I meant the other one-

The ceiling behind him burst, dust and debris falling around. Dipper took a few steps back, pulse racing, he took a deep breath and readied his crossbow.

The billowing smoke cleared, revealing a very large opening. Soon enough, a huge quadruped being descended, a strong wave of heat emanating from it. It appeared to have a bulky lion's body and a head, sporting a pair of red wings on its broad back, and a long scaly scorpion's tail.

"A Manticore!? You never told me squat about this thing!" Dipper shrieked hysterically. Hank's groaning could be heard from his walkie-talkie.

-Oh dear, this is bad-

"Bad!? Hank, we're screwed!" Understatement of a lifetime. This was really bad; this otherworldly chimera was out of the equation, a liability. Given the chance, this monster could sink them both. "You've dealt it before right? Any ideas?"

The beast snarled, baring three rows of teeth, sharp edges glinting in the dim light. Dipper gulped, he could see the faint traces of blood along the canines.

-Did I? Oh yes, though that was years ago. I used to have a pair of kidneys back then-

"Not helping!"

-Quite. Hmm let's see, ah yes, shoot its tail-

The chimera stared at him, a passive aggressive look in its face, probably sizing him up with those large, intimidating feral eyes. Dipper, as calm as he could be, aimed his sights on the beast's long tail wiggling behind it. Steady. Steady. There. With a deep breath, he pulls the trigger, an arrow shooting through landing square on the scaly appendage. The chimera howled in pain, its whole body shaking in rage.

-Did I just say don't? I'm pretty sure I said don't-

"I just did!"

-Oh, you're screwed boy; they're not quite fond of having their tail pierced-

The Manticore pounced at him with a roar, claws and fangs eager to make a salad out of the young man. Dipper barely managed to dodge, instinctively rolling out of the way. The boy made a mad dash across the tunnel, placing as much distance as he could, but it proved to be quite straining with all the water around.

Water.

Shock Gloves.

"Come on, come on, come on." He fumbled around the buttons on his gloves, finding a way to activate them. An audible bleep came, and sparks of electricity started to dance around his knuckles. "Perfect!" He grinned.

Dipper stopped in his tracks, instantly ducking to avoid another pounce from the beast.

He reached elevated ground, and instantly brought his electric gloves down on the water, right where the monster was. The Manticore let out a roar of pain from being electrocuted with a large number of volts coursing through its moist fur. Soon enough, the shock treatment proved too much, and the beast passed out, crisp blackened fur smoking all over

Dipper's legs gave in, falling on the ground panting. He pulled out his Smez Dispenser and popped a colored bar into his mouth.

If only he had known snooping around hidden bunkers would lead him into encountering one of the most infamous beast in Persian lore… needless to say, Dipper would rather spend the whole afternoon mopping around the Mystery Shack, at least nothing would try to rip his head off.

With a grunt he slowly stood up, dusting off his coat, he proceeded with the task at hand and started running. There's plenty more time for regret later.

-Make haste my boy, time is of the essence!-

Dipper groaned. "You're telling me, Hank." That roar was something, loud enough to echo throughout the tunnels. Enough for the others to hear. Surely if that Manticore managed to survive in these tunnels amongst the likes of the Shapeshifter, it couldn't possibly the only one. As much as Dipper likes to differ.

Then they came. Turns out the Manticore proved to be the LEAST of all Dipper's problems. Still shaking off the aftereffects of andrenaline, he was later ambushed by a pack of bloodthirsty Dire Wolves. Nasty ones, around a dozen, somehow being able to breathe fire, probably the byproduct of one of Hank's experiments. Luckily the Shock Gloves managed to make a short work on most of the feral canines, but the fewer, far more rabid ones require additional lethal force, particularly the crossbow.

And then he soon came across a giant glowing yellow humanoid bear. Dipper couldn't help but cringe at the morbid irony around it he can't quite put. The creatures offered a big, heartwarming hug, to which a very disturbed Dipper gently replied by shooting a couple of arrows into the innocent gesture. From Manticores to Dire Wolves, and then this. For the second time of the day Dipper pondered how the heck he'd gotten himself into this, bitterly bemoaning his oh-so-favorable luck. Hopefully that was the last of them.

Boy was he so wrong.

Turns out there was at least half a dozen more. The next few minutes were nothing more than running, shooting, and more running.

One after another they came, each far more kuku than the other. The 12 yr. old orphan thought there couldn't be anything more disturbing than that three eyed Statyr with a multitude of limbs, but then this Spanish speaking Unicorn came along. Occasionally Hank would provide some 'tips'. It never ended well.

Three minutes, two bruises, and one limp later, he finally reached the spot.

"Alright Hank, I've made it. Barely." Dipper said through his walkie-talkie, panting and wheezing all over. He winced when he felt a sting and clutched his right abdomen, courtesy of an angry golem, that's gonna' leave a bruise.

Hank let out a laugh at the other line.

-Splendid! Now get those charges set, let's end this mess once and for all-

Dipper nodded and readied the compact explosives, placing each in their respective places.

"Alright they're set."

-Good, now get back here-

As luck would have it, no more creatures came to greet him on his way back this time around. Making his way back to the lab, he was greeted with a smirking Hank holding the trigger.

"My boy, no words can be able to express this old man's gratitude for your service. 30 years of solitude in here, all of this wouldn't be possible if it weren't for your help." The old man said with a smile, kneeling down and placing a hand on Dipper's shoulder.

Dipper rubbed his head sheepishly, a dorky smile gracing his features. "Don't mention it Hank, I mean, you've already done your part."

"Really, a shame on my expense sending such a fine young man to sort out this mess I've made. Though I must say, you're quite resilient. Not many can take on a Golem's backhand that blunt."

Dipper shrugged, ignoring his aching shoulder. "That thing breathes out rainbows, no wonder it's so angry." He commented dryly.

"Yes, though there is still one thing left to do." Hank spoke in a low tone, Dipper didn't have time to ask as the old man's hands were instantly around his neck, lifting him up the ground. "You."

"What?" The boy managed to let out despite being denied of breathing, he was barely even able to comprehend when Hank violently threw him across the room, pain searing through his back when it bluntly hit the wall for the second time that day.

Dipper groaned, his left hand rubbing his head, his right fumbling through the floor searching for his glasses. He took a look at Hank, who appeared to be calmly walking towards him despite his blurry vision. He finally found his glasses, putting them on for a better view at the old man.

Gone was the good old Hank he agreed to help minutes ago, the polite and jovial smile he had was now replaced with a sadistic smirk in his wrinkly old face.

Nothing made any sense, whatever he was up to, did not bode well for the young man, but for what? He can't see any possible angles why, or what he even did. Unless...

"It was you all along wasn't it? The Shapeshifter." Dipper said. He mentally cursed himself. How could he not see that coming? "You made me spare you all the trouble with the others."

"Well so much for theatrics, that was anti-climactic." White translucent splotches slowly appeared throughout Hank's body, it didn't take long till it fully engulfed him. Dipper watched passively as the man slowly morphed into something far more sinister than anything he'd ever encountered in the past few minutes.

"How'd you like my true form? Don't be shy, I know you like it."

Right where Hank was, stood a tall, white translucent slimy creature; four long noodle legs, and a pair of skinny three fingered arms, though the left one appears to be swollen, baby pink eyes on a skull shaped head, and a snout showing four large fangs and six smaller teeth.

Gross. Was the first thing that came to Dipper's mind and offensive for some reason he can't explain. Though not as bad as his great-uncle's wrinkly face on close up, still makes it repulsive nonetheless. The only thing that could make it worse was picturing them side-by-side.

 _Wait, no! Don't. Even. Think about it!_. Too late. Dipper couldn't stop himself from hurling out his lunch right there, right now of all times. Even for a guy with a steely stomach, he had his limits.

Hank-no-The Shapeshifter growled, offended by the rude response.

"How rude, but it will no longer matter. Soon this shall be your burial, so as the rest of those abominations."

"Shut up." Dipper muttered, wiping his mouth before standing up.

"But I do mean my gratitude on your nasty piece of work on the others; you spared me all the trouble nipping them one by one." The white slimy creature instantly morphs into a green equally slimy toad, around 5 ft tall, with three wide red narrow eyes. "Now where were we?" It shot out a long, scarlet tongue, quickly latching onto Dipper' left leg. The boy barely had time to react as he toppled over with a yelp when the overgrown appendage roughly pulled him straight into the monster's mouth.

Survival instincts kicking in once again, Dipper's arms instantly grabbed at anything they could find, which happened to be a nearby water pipe.

"Stop resisting; it's cheesy." The Shapeshifter said.

Dipper ignored this, as he could feel the tug on his leg grow harder, and his arms starting to strain. Having enough with the futile resistance, the monster violently yanked the boy off, which somehow only made him loose his hold with his right arm, much to the creature's surprise.

The boy bit back a hiss, the sudden pull proved to be a little too much as he could feel searing pain in his left wrist. Sprain, dislocation, fracture, it wouldn't matter. If he got anywhere near that thing he was done for. He desperately racked his brain for any possible options.

Then he remembered, instantly reaching into his coat, he brandished a spare arrow and with a swift swing, stabbed the tongue into the ground.

The Shapeshifter howled in pain, the monstrous toad reeled in its injured appendage and morphes back in favor of Hank clutching his face, green blood dripping from his mouth. He was barely even able to recover as Dipper was instantly upon him, an enraged look on the boy's face, and an electric imbued punch landing square on his face.

The sudden blow was enough to sent the monster rolling on the floor. Dipper took the opportunity and snatched the fallen trigger and his crossbow, the boy made a mad dash back at the tunnels.

"Mangy brat!" Hank bellowed, nursing his face. Who knew a mere shrimp like him could pack quite a punch. "Get back here!" He turned into a large, armored insect resembling that of a centipede. The humongous insectoid released a high pitch howl curling itself into a wheel before expertly rolling after the running 12 yr old.

Dipper ran as fast as his noodle legs could carry him, trying as hard as he could to ignore the injuries that would hinder him, he spared a glance behind and saw a new form of monstrosity chasing after him. Crap.

"Give me that trigger!"

Keep that thing away from that trigger, more specifically, away from the surface. Dipper soon reached a narrow split in the tunnel; he instantly threw an arrow down one passage before hiding behind a nearby rock.

The Shapeshifter came through, falling for Dipper's ruse and entering through that particular passage.

It was gone. For now.

Double checking to see the coast is clear, Dipper released a tired sigh and slumped on the ground, nursing his left wrist. As if those creatures didn't do a number on him already, here comes a homicidal Shapeshifter out to kill him.

"Story of my life." The young man muttered.

Yet despite all this, all Dipper could feel is anger. Gritting his teeth, he banged his fist on the ground out of frustration.

So this was it for him? To die like a dog after living up to his use? To be used as a scapegoat to do another man's dirty work?

No one, but no one, outplays Dipper Pines and gets away with it. Not this time.

A hot flash of anger rose up to his chest. If the Shapeshifter wanted to end him that bad, it would be rather rude for him not to return the favor.

With a renewed vigor, he slowly stood up, a dark look in his face.

Two can play this game.

* * *

A dead end. Just a spare arrow thrown to fool him. Clever boy. Though not clever enough to figure out his ruse soon enough.

He returned to the center clearing, surrounded by dozens of openings. He was there, on one of these, waiting for a chance. The place appears only way leading to the main lab, now with him being here completely blocks off the little runt's last possible escape.

"Tyrone my boy, come out!" He called out in mock concern.

The only response he had was the deafening silence as his voice echoed throughout the cavern. Hank narrowed his eyes.

"I apologize for the rather rude way expressing my gratitude, truly that was quite callous of me to treat such a fine guest."

Another silence.

"So right now, if you would kindly show up, I promise no more 'tongue lashing' or any of that. All I want is just to have a nice, heartwarming chat with you. And then eviscerate you. Which I'm gonna do after we're done talking."

For the third time, there was hardly a response. Hank growled. This boy was really testing his patience.

"Well, if you're not a fan of having your insides violated, there's a plethora of options you can choose. I have a rope here, if you're into that kind of thing."

...

Hank had had enough. If the ungrateful brat wouldn't take his polite offer, then he was gonna-

"Alright, I give in!" There's that single formed human weakling, stepping out on one of the openings, both hands raised with one holding the trigger. "No tricks this time."

Hank smirked. "Wise choice my boy, now hand me the trigger." He hastily demanded, right hand outstretched.

Dipper lazily tossed the device, which the old man swiftly caught.

"You just spared yourself a gruesome death young man, though the alternative wouldn't be humane either."

The boy simply gave him a blank look.

"Aaah, nothing to say eh? Too busy trembling or what not."

Dipper remained passively calm.

The old man growled, tightening his grip on the trigger. "Why do I even bother, just die already!" Without warning, he quickly pressed the button. The explosion on that particular spot in these tunnels should be enough for the foundations to crumble, burying this little gremlin along with it.

But it didn't come, not in the way he wanted. A huge deadly blast triggered. Right beneath Hank's very feet.

The sudden force sent the old man plummeting across the room, green blood splattering all over the place. Dipper cringed at the violent display before him.

Billowing black smoke and the repulsive smell of burned flesh lingers in the air for a few seconds, soon it cleared up revealing Hank writhing in agony on the ground, a green puddle of blood beneath him.

Aw man he's still alive. So much for that, time for plan B.

On second thought, Dipper didn't have one. Everyone would assume a thing like that would die after the first blast. Oh well.

"Charade you are good sir." Dipper taunted with a smirk.

"You think you're so funny boy." Hank seethed, in a low venomous tone. "Clever as you may be, you're just like any six fingered nerd out there."

"Hey I'm the wronged one here." Dipper vehemently defended. "Witnesses ought to be put down, but this right here, dude, this feels personal."

"You don't say." Hank boisterously laughed. "The way you speak. The way you dress. The way you think you have everything under control with that single formed brain of yours. It took a great deal of me to stomach this whole facade being around you." He said before letting out a roar, he then morphed into another, far more intimidating form; a tall imposing red creature, with four large meaty legs and two three fingered arms. Its most striking feature appears to be its head, as it eerily resembles that of a human hand, with ridges along its sides resembling fingers and a huge, glowing red eye on its 'palm.'

"You remind me so much of _him_!" The monster bellowed. Its knuckle like head clenches to form a giant red fist and brought it down upon Dipper. The boy barely managed to dodge as he instinctively rolled out of the way, missing the deadly fist by a hair, his initial luck was short lived however, as it was immediately followed by a quick brutal backhand hitting Dipper square on, sending the brown haired boy flying across the room.

Dipper landed on the ground, nursing his already injured backside. He grimaced, another blunt hit like that and he was done for.

"Him who!?" The boy demands gritting his teeth.

His answer was in the form of huge red punch coming after him, he quickly jumped out of the way as the fist hit the wall full force and ran away as fast as he could.

"Hold still! I'm trying to kill you here!" The monster roared, instantly snatching the boy with his fist of a head, denying him of any chance of escape.

"I got you now boy!" This proved to be another big mistake, as Dipper miraculously freed his left arm and instantly pulled out another spare arrow before stabbing the monster's exposed eye. Blinding flash of pain was all the Shapeshifter felt as it let out a painful howl. But it didn't let go, though the grip around Dipper loosened, freeing his other arm. Desperate, the boy opted for a more crass choice. He clamped his knuckles together, activating his shock gloves, electricity danced around his fists.

"From heck's cold heart, I stab at thee!" Dipper yelled with all his spare energy left, delivering an electric imbued smash onto the monster's eye. The Shapeshifter finally let go, and Dipper dropped on the ground with an audible thud.

Dipper tried to stand, but with all the rolling and stabbing and all that, combined with his unattended injuries, fatigue finally took its toll. He was on all fours, panting and wheezing as he tried to even his ragged breathing. Muscles stretched and sore all over.

He took a glance towards the Shapeshifter, who now was reverted back into Hank on his knees clutching his left eye. "Enough! You have insulted me for one last time boy!"

Dipper tried to stand, but was only able manage a knee. Despite all this, he retained a passive expression, glaring at Hank as he reached into his coat, only to be visibly surprised when he finds nothing.

"Looking for this?" Hank taunted with a smirk, casually flipping around Dipper's crossbow. Without warning, he shot an arrow straight into Dipper's left shoulder, the boy let out a cry of pain as he thrashes on the ground. "Oops." The old man quipped callously.

Pain was all Dipper felt as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. Shaking all over, a small supressed whimper managed to make its way out of his throat as tears started to form in his eyes, who knew being stabbed could hurt this much. If somehow possible, Hank's smirk grew even wider upon hearing this. Failure, was all an inner voice inside him says as he realizes his fatal mistake, now he's gonna die unleashing such an evil unto Gravity Falls. He was already seeing hallucinations of a giant, glowing letter B on the wall behind Hank, mocking him for his arrogance and lack of prep.

"Though I must say, it has been fun." Hank mocked, now standing close to the boy moaning in pain, he lazily loads another arrow and aims the weapon between Dipper's eyes. "If there's any consolation, you're not the only one. Soon as I finally get that charm the whole citizens of Gravity Falls will join you as well, you have my word. Good bye my dear Tyrone, though there's hardly any good in it. For a mere boy such as yourself, you're a real pain in my a-"

Anger, grief, horror, desperation, it all comes crashing down. For a split-second Dipper's mind went blank, the searing pain he felt numbed down, and his heart skipped a beat upon comprehending the grim implications behind the Shapeshifter's words. His stomach suddenly felt cold all over.

Any other further monologue from the monster was cut off as the boy suddenly roared, fueled with intense anger as he callously gripped on the embedded arrow in his shoulder, instantly pulling it out ignoring the whole new sensation of pain, or the blood pouring freely from the careless act.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered, not anymore.

A new wave of adrenaline rushed upon him as he suddenly pounced at the old man, ignoring his sore muscles aching in protest, the renewed vigor the boy had shown was so sporadic that Hank himself was caught off guard, enough to throw his aim off and accidentally fire an arrow that merely grazed the boy in the cheek. Dipper didn't give him a chance to recover as he stabbed the arrow right at his stomach.

Hank didn't have the time to scream as a punch sent him skidding across the ground. He couldn't shift, not with an arrow embedded deep into his stomach. He didn't have the time to recover as the very moment he stopped rolling, the boy was immediately straddling him, delivering a flurry of heavy punches onto his face.

For the first time in his somber life, Dipper Pines felt rage, pure unbridled, raw rage. This thing, whatever it was, stepped on a landmine when it outright threatened his friends, _threatened Stan._ Truth be told, he was actually happy to let it end his miserable young life right here right now. Least he could finally see his sister, together with his family. But he can't. He won't. Not when he still had one left to lose. Not when this monster threatened to just take it away.

"You're. Not. Going. Anywhere!" Dipper bellowed, each word punctuated by brutal blow after brutal blow onto Hanks face.

All Hank could do was to twitch his hand.

The last thing the Shapeshifter saw, moments before everything went black, despite his blurry vision clouded with green blood, was that misplaced _smile_ the boy had on his face.

 _Die, die, die!_

It went on, seconds, minutes, hours; the boy couldn't care less about the time.

Soon enough, Dipper finally stopped, arms hanging limp on his sides. He was just tired, everything in him was tired.

He spent the next few minutes doing nothing, with only the deafening silence and his ragged breathing. Then, a look of pure shock dawned on the boy's face, soon replaced with utter horror as he stared at his hands, his ocean blue gloves now dripping with green blood, dripping down, his eyes followed at the trail.

Hank, if it weren't for his outfit, wouldn't be recognized as green blood continues to ooze out of the newly made orifices in his face courtesy of the literal blunt treatment it received seconds ago.

He checked his pulse... Nothing.

With a shriek, Dipper jumped off, falling flat on his rear, before crawling away, putting as much distance as he could.

 _Oh my god he's still twitching.._ Nerve reflexes.

His back soon hit the wall, but his horrified brown eyes still focused on the freshly made corpse, mouth hanging, sweaty and hyperventilating all over.

 _I had to_. He mentally chanted over and over. But this heavy feeling of guilt told him otherwise. All he could do right now was to clutch his knees and bury his head in his arms, sobs shaking his very young body.

For the first time in his somber life, Dipper Pines was lost.

* * *

 **_MYSTERY_' ' HACK_**

* * *

"There you are you little dork!... Yeesh, what happened kid!?" Oh my god are you alright? How do you feel? Do you need to see a doctor? Come here let me give ya' a hug. Stan bit his tongue. Hard. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel relieved _just_ a bit seeing his great-nephew alright. But no, he's ain't in the mood to get cheesy here.

Dipper was, for the lack of a better term, a mess. His scruffy brown hair looked more disheveled than usual, that corny brown coat he wore appeared to be riddled with cuts and tears across the hem. A black eye on the left and an ugly bruise adorning below his mouth. The right lens of his glasses appeared to be cracked as well. Sweet Jesus the kid's bleeding.

 _Not much, kinda found this cool hidden secret bunker in the middle of the woods, got myself a cool new pair of gloves, and then I meet Hank. Cool guy. Next thing you know were trying to kill each other, it wasn't until I bashed a new orifice on his face to stop him for good._

It was tempting. Too tempting. Dipper almost mouthed the first word just to see the look on Stan's face afterwards, maybe, just maybe, make him feel a little better after the (unintentional) homicide he committed not too long ago. But after seeing the look of genuine concern on his great-uncle's face, he sighed. Might as well sum it up for two words-

"Shit happened."

With that, the boy made his way to his room downstairs. Blissfully ignoring the bewildered look on Stan's face. Eager to have a good night's sleep after the torture that was this Monday afternoon. And maybe a couple of aspirins and a new pair of lens for a good measure.

* * *

 **_DIPPER'S_ROOM/BASEMENT_**

* * *

Dipper had never been more grateful to be finally able to lay on his nice, soft, cotton bed. With all the hell he endured, not to mention he lost count on how many times he was close to dying, sure feels like pure absolute bliss of the feel of the soft fabric on his aching back.

As he was finally able to rest his tired joints, he slowly began to realize the implications of everything he had witnessed so far.

The presence of supernatural creatures within that bunker, the Shapeshifter, the tingling feeling he felt like he was being followed back in the woods. These were more than just mere coincidence.

Dipper idly stared into the ceiling. If there was one thing he'd learned after that brief skirmish, it was that this town, Gravity Falls Oregon, was not everything as it seems.

So many questions running into his head. So few, vague answers to go by.

He briefly stood up from his bed. Making his way to his shelf, he pulled out a thick brown hardbound compact book on its corner, and a golden tinfoil with a cutter. He slowly made his way to his study desk in the corner of the room.

He placed the book on the table, laying down the tinfoil onto the cover. He placed his left open palm on top before tracing the edges of his hands with the cutter. Neatly cutting the tinfoil, he removed the rest leaving a newly made, gold six-fingered hand symbol. He carefully glued it on the very center of the cover.

Gravity Falls had far more secrets he had yet to uncover, probably dark as it might be, but Dipper Pines didn't back down from a challenge.

He was gonna need a journal.

* * *

 **SRWWVM NVHHZTV, RH SRWWVM**

* * *

 **Well, that happened, least Hank is dead.**

 **If you actually made it here at the bottom, congrats!**

 **I'm following Proffesor X's info on creatures with regenerative abilities, which their regenerative gift roots from their very brain stem.**

 **Anyways, R &R guys! Any thoughts and ideas you'd like to share feel free to do so, I won't bite. Dipper would. Good thing he's sleeping.**

 **Flamers? Meh *Shrugs***

 **And last but definitely not the least~ Special thanks to DoceoPercepto for the amazing Beta Read!**


End file.
